[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
across the line. Nothing more of the fighting was known that night, the night
of my drive to Leatherhead and back.
My brother felt no anxiety about us, as he knew from the description in the
papers that the cylinder was a good two miles from my house. He made up his
mind to run down that night to me, in order, as he says, to see the Things
before they were killed. He despatched a telegram, which never reached me,
about four o'clock, and spent the evening at a music hall.
In London, also, on Saturday night there was a thunderstorm, and my brother
reached Waterloo in a cab. On the platform from which the midnight train
usually starts he learned, after some waiting, that an accident prevented
trains from reaching Woking that night. The nature of the accident he could
not ascertain; indeed, the railway authorities did not clearly know at that
time. There was very little excitement in the station, as the officials,
failing to realise that anything further than a breakdown between Byfleet and
Woking junction had occurred, were running the theatre trains which usually
passed through Woking round by Virginia Water or Guildford. They were busy
making the necessary arrangements to alter the route of the Southampton and
Portsmouth Sunday League excursions. A nocturnal newspaper reporter, mistaking
my brother for the traffic manager, to whom he bears a slight resemblance,
waylaid and tried to interview him. Few people, excepting the railway
officials, connected the breakdown with the Martians.
I have read, in another account of these events, that on Sunday morning "all
London was electrified by the news from Woking." As a matter of fact, there
was nothing to justify that every extravagant phrase. Plenty of Londoners did
not hear of the Martians until the panic of Monday morning. Those who did took
some time to realise all that the hastily worded telegrams in the Sunday
papers conveyed. The majority of people in London do not read Sunday papers.
The habit of personal security, moreover, is so deeply fixed in the
Londoner's mind, and startling intelligence so much a matter of course in the
papers, that they could read without any personal tremors: "About seven
o'clock last night the Martians came out of the cylinder, and, moving about
Page 39
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
under an armour of metallic shields, have completely wrecked Woking station
with the adjacent houses, and massacred an entire battalion of the Cardigan
Regiment. No details are known. Maxims have been absolutely useless against
their armour; the field guns have been disabled by them. Flying hussars have
been galloping into Chertsey. The Martians appear to be moving slowly towards
Chertsey or Windsor. Great anxiety prevails in West Surrey, and earthworks are
being thrown up to check the advance Londonward." That was how the Sunday Sun
put it, and a clever and remarkably prompt "handbook" article in the Referee
compared the affair to a menagerie suddenly let loose in a village.
No one in London knew positively of the nature of the armoured Martians, and
there was still a fixed idea that these monsters must be sluggish: "crawling,"
"creeping painfully" -- such expressions occurred in almost all the earlier
reports. None of the telegrams could have been written by an eye-witness of
their advance. The Sunday papers printed separate editions as further news
came to hand, some even in default of it. But there was practically nothing
more to tell people until late in the afternoon, when the authorities gave the
press agencies the news in their possession. It was stated that the people of
Walton and Weybridge, and all the district, were pouring along the roads
Londonward, and that was all.
My brother went to church at the Foundling Hospital in the morning, still in
ignorance of what had happened on the previous night. There he heard allusions
made to the invasion, and a special prayer for peace. Coming out, he bought a
Referee. He became alarmed at the news in this, and went again to Waterloo
station to find out if communication were restored. The omnibuses, carriages,
cyclists, and innumerable people walking in their best clothes seemed scarcely
affected by the strange intelligence that the news venders were disseminating.
People were interested, or, if alarmed, alarmed only on account of the local
residents. At the station he heard for the first time that the Windsor and
Chertsey lines were now interrupted. The porters told him that several
remarkable telegrams had been received in the morning from Byfleet and
Chertsey stations, but that these had abruptly ceased. My brother could get
very little precise detail out of them.
"There's fighting going on about Weybridge," was the extent of their
information.
The train service was now very much disorganised. Quite a number of people
who had been expecting friends from places on the South-Western network were
standing about the station. One grey-headed old gentleman came and abused the
South-Western Company bitterly to my brother. "It wants showing up," he said.
One or two trains came in from Richmond, Putney, and Kingston, containing
people who had gone out for a day's boating and found the locks closed and a
feeling of panic in the air. A man in a blue and white blazer addressed my
brother, full of strange tidings. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl szamanka888.keep.pl
across the line. Nothing more of the fighting was known that night, the night
of my drive to Leatherhead and back.
My brother felt no anxiety about us, as he knew from the description in the
papers that the cylinder was a good two miles from my house. He made up his
mind to run down that night to me, in order, as he says, to see the Things
before they were killed. He despatched a telegram, which never reached me,
about four o'clock, and spent the evening at a music hall.
In London, also, on Saturday night there was a thunderstorm, and my brother
reached Waterloo in a cab. On the platform from which the midnight train
usually starts he learned, after some waiting, that an accident prevented
trains from reaching Woking that night. The nature of the accident he could
not ascertain; indeed, the railway authorities did not clearly know at that
time. There was very little excitement in the station, as the officials,
failing to realise that anything further than a breakdown between Byfleet and
Woking junction had occurred, were running the theatre trains which usually
passed through Woking round by Virginia Water or Guildford. They were busy
making the necessary arrangements to alter the route of the Southampton and
Portsmouth Sunday League excursions. A nocturnal newspaper reporter, mistaking
my brother for the traffic manager, to whom he bears a slight resemblance,
waylaid and tried to interview him. Few people, excepting the railway
officials, connected the breakdown with the Martians.
I have read, in another account of these events, that on Sunday morning "all
London was electrified by the news from Woking." As a matter of fact, there
was nothing to justify that every extravagant phrase. Plenty of Londoners did
not hear of the Martians until the panic of Monday morning. Those who did took
some time to realise all that the hastily worded telegrams in the Sunday
papers conveyed. The majority of people in London do not read Sunday papers.
The habit of personal security, moreover, is so deeply fixed in the
Londoner's mind, and startling intelligence so much a matter of course in the
papers, that they could read without any personal tremors: "About seven
o'clock last night the Martians came out of the cylinder, and, moving about
Page 39
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
under an armour of metallic shields, have completely wrecked Woking station
with the adjacent houses, and massacred an entire battalion of the Cardigan
Regiment. No details are known. Maxims have been absolutely useless against
their armour; the field guns have been disabled by them. Flying hussars have
been galloping into Chertsey. The Martians appear to be moving slowly towards
Chertsey or Windsor. Great anxiety prevails in West Surrey, and earthworks are
being thrown up to check the advance Londonward." That was how the Sunday Sun
put it, and a clever and remarkably prompt "handbook" article in the Referee
compared the affair to a menagerie suddenly let loose in a village.
No one in London knew positively of the nature of the armoured Martians, and
there was still a fixed idea that these monsters must be sluggish: "crawling,"
"creeping painfully" -- such expressions occurred in almost all the earlier
reports. None of the telegrams could have been written by an eye-witness of
their advance. The Sunday papers printed separate editions as further news
came to hand, some even in default of it. But there was practically nothing
more to tell people until late in the afternoon, when the authorities gave the
press agencies the news in their possession. It was stated that the people of
Walton and Weybridge, and all the district, were pouring along the roads
Londonward, and that was all.
My brother went to church at the Foundling Hospital in the morning, still in
ignorance of what had happened on the previous night. There he heard allusions
made to the invasion, and a special prayer for peace. Coming out, he bought a
Referee. He became alarmed at the news in this, and went again to Waterloo
station to find out if communication were restored. The omnibuses, carriages,
cyclists, and innumerable people walking in their best clothes seemed scarcely
affected by the strange intelligence that the news venders were disseminating.
People were interested, or, if alarmed, alarmed only on account of the local
residents. At the station he heard for the first time that the Windsor and
Chertsey lines were now interrupted. The porters told him that several
remarkable telegrams had been received in the morning from Byfleet and
Chertsey stations, but that these had abruptly ceased. My brother could get
very little precise detail out of them.
"There's fighting going on about Weybridge," was the extent of their
information.
The train service was now very much disorganised. Quite a number of people
who had been expecting friends from places on the South-Western network were
standing about the station. One grey-headed old gentleman came and abused the
South-Western Company bitterly to my brother. "It wants showing up," he said.
One or two trains came in from Richmond, Putney, and Kingston, containing
people who had gone out for a day's boating and found the locks closed and a
feeling of panic in the air. A man in a blue and white blazer addressed my
brother, full of strange tidings. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]